The Awful Truth
by Bladelover
Summary: Always follow your instincts…unless your instincts are morons.


**Warnings: **A slash story AND a gen story at the same time. I can't explain that without giving away the ending, so I ask you to read regardless of your preference. Also, contains some spoilers for _The Tao of Rodney._

**Author's note: **As always, thanks to Madigirl and historygirl, my beta buds. (Tehy didnt missa thing/.) And special thanks to Sholio for some last-minute advice. 

ooOooOoo

They stood in Sheppard's quarters, one slouching and half-sitting on his desk, the other standing rigidly in front of the closed door with folded arms. All the awkward, forced conversation had been exhausted, and the equally awkward silence hurt both their ears.

"So," Rodney said.

"Yeah."

Well, that gambit had yielded a pathetic return. "Right. So. Are we, that is, I mean, are we…" Rodney sighed impatiently, without bothering to show that the impatience was with himself. "So are we gonna, you know, do this? Or what?"

"Yeah," Sheppard said, looking for all the world like someone who meant "no." "You bet. Sure. We are."

"Great." Several long seconds passed. "You know, we'd probably be more convincing if we, I don't know, moved, or something."

"Oh. Right. Probably."

Sheppard slid off the edge of the desk. Rodney uncrossed his arms. Neither did anything else.

At this rate, they'd both die of old age before anything actually happened. The real old age, not the Wraith-induced kind.

"Oh, hell, _fine!_ " Rodney exploded into motion, stomping to the bed and sitting down stiffly. After some brief consideration, he unlaced his boots and ripped them off, tossing them several feet away. The tossing wasn't really necessary, but he felt compelled to make up for the complete inactivity of the past few minutes.

He glared at Sheppard for a few more seconds before reclining upon the bed. After a few more seconds, he put one hand under his head. "Well?"

Swallowing visibly, Sheppard gave a ghostly smile and shuffled toward the bed. He sat down so carefully Rodney hardly felt the mattress move. "Look, I'm, I mean… I'm sorry. I'm not good at…"

"Oh," Rodney said, sitting up, "it's okay, really. Neither am I."

"Huh?"

"Well, not _that_ good."

Sheppard looked affronted. "I was gonna say, I'm not good at initiating these kinds of things."

"Oh." Rodney felt embarrassed, then apologetic for his insulting assumption, then even more embarrassed as he realized what he'd just confessed. Being Rodney, though, he brightened almost immediately. "So, not good at initiating; not a problem. I, uh, I know just how to proceed."

There was another moment of inaction that threatened to undermine this statement, and then Rodney lunged, seizing Sheppard by the shoulders and pulling their faces together, creating the sort of impact usually seen only between magnets of opposing polarities.

"Ow!" Sheppard said, pulling away and putting a hand to his mouth.

"Sorry! Too hard?"

"Yeah, unless breaking my teeth is supposed to be part of the deal."

"No, it probably isn't. Sorry, really. I…" He glanced toward the door. "Maybe… Maybe I should…" Rodney started, very slightly, to slide off the bed.

"No," Sheppard said, hesitating, then awkwardly grabbed the other man's arm. "No, don't… I mean, it's okay. I'm fine."

Rodney smiled sheepishly. "No blood, no foul?"

"Right. Well, I _am_ bleeding, a little, but that'll stop pretty soon."

Rodney saw Sheppard's upper lip bulge as his tongue explored the damage done to it by his front teeth. Rodney's stomach lurched, just a little. "We, uh, I mean, can we not… Do you mind if we don't, you know, kiss? I mean, just until the bleeding…?"

"No, no, sure, that's, you know. Okay."

Was that relief on Sheppard's face? Should he be insulted? Well, Rodney was pretty sure _he_ wore a look of relief, too, since he wouldn't have to be tasting Sheppard's blood. Maybe… Maybe he should stop thinking about that now. In fact, now that kissing was out, they were stalled again, and Sheppard seemed to be at a loss, so it was definitely up to Rodney to get things back on track.

He thought furiously for a moment, then broke the latest silence with a decisive clap of his hands. Sheppard jumped slightly. Rodney ignored it. "Music!" he cried triumphantly.

The look on Sheppard's face clearly said, _Yeah? And?_ Not for the first time, Rodney really wished he could see Sheppard's MENSA test for himself. "Music? You know, to establish the proper mood? You have dated at some point in your life, right?"

Sheppard looked around the room as though uncertain how music could be made to happen. Rodney stood up. "No, don't worry, I've come prepared." Reaching inside his jacket, he extracted the CD he'd carefully burned earlier in the day. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward Sheppard's laptop but already inserting the disc before receiving permission. Within a couple of minutes, music filled the room.

He turned with a self-satisfied smile to find Sheppard staring at him. Maybe he was undressing Rodney with his eyes, but that dull expression? Not really a turn-on.

"Barry White?" Sheppard said flatly.

"Yes?" Rodney frowned, waiting for additional input, then realized that the flat tone and dull expression _were_ the additional input. "Oh. Bad choice? I wasn't sure…"

"You do know I'm not a woman, right?"

Narrowing his eyes, Rodney spat, "Yes, that had occurred to me, thank you. Of course, if you were a woman, this would certainly be a lot less awkward, now wouldn't it?"

Sheppard's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Well… no, not really. But that's not the point!"

"Would you please turn that off!"

"Fine!" Ejecting the disc from the laptop, Rodney stuffed it back into his jacket. "You know, a little initiative on your part would not go amiss at this point."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I seem to be doing all the work! I mean, I'm used to being the idea man when we're out in the field, but is it too much to ask for a little help when we –"

"All right!" Sheppard had stood up, walking decisively toward Rodney. There was purpose in his eyes, resolution in his step. He was _Colonel_ Sheppard now. He was _taking over the mission._

Leaning over the laptop, Sheppard opened a folder of .mp3's. "Why are you still wearing your jacket?"

"Huh?" Rodney frowned, fingering the unzipped flap of said jacket.

"You took off your boots, but kept the jacket on?" Sheppard smirked. "What've you got to hide? I've seen you in your t-shirt before."

Involuntarily, Rodney hugged himself, suddenly self-conscious. He'd probably have shed the jacket without a second thought if Sheppard hadn't mentioned it. (And if he were still sitting across the room. And if he were blindfolded.) Now, he'd feel the man's eyes on him as he removed it, and well, he'd never been one to casually put himself on display.

"You know," Sheppard said, and when had he moved so close, anyway? "I really don't think this is gonna work if you don't loosen up a little."

"Right," Rodney croaked. _Loose,_ he told himself firmly as Sheppard started to slip the jacket off his shoulders, _think loose._ Loose… teeth, loose change, _Footloose,_ loose women…

_Don't think about women!_

"There, that's better," Sheppard assured him as he tossed the jacket onto the desk. They were both wide-eyed now, breathing erratically. Rodney saw him swallow again before starting to lean toward him. _The blood!_ screamed a voice in Rodney's head. _Idiot. His lip's certainly stopped bleeding by now. It's not like –_

"What the hell?" Rodney forgot everything, including the proximity of Sheppard's face, and stared at the laptop. "What did you … is that _country music?_"

"Yeah." Sheppard's arms were folded now in unspoken challenge. "Johnny Cash. It's not like you didn't know I'm a fan."

"Well, no kidding, given that he's over there on the wall supervising the proceedings, which I was fully prepared to overlook, by the way, but—"

"Thanks, that's big of you."

"But seriously, how is that a better choice of background music for this than Barry White? I mean, who wants to hear about prison and trains and hound dogs and—"

"Hound dogs?"

"… and 'walking the line' when they're… when they're…" He shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Oh, God! This is so not working."

"There, it's off! Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." Snapping his fingers, Rodney said, "Hand me my jacket."

"No."

"No? What are we, toddlers? Just hand me the damn jacket! Or forget it, I'll get it myself."

Sheppard stepped to block him. "Rodney, if you leave now, we'll always wonder…"

"What the hell we were thinking, yes, yes we will. Get out of my way."

He moved to get around Sheppard, who grabbed him by the now partially exposed biceps and dragged him toward him. Their lips met, this time less violently, and Rodney was assaulted by various sensations – the feel of Sheppard's lips, unexpectedly soft (not unlike a woman's); the feeling of his breath against Rodney's cheek (again, not much different from a woman's); the gritty scratching of his lightly growing stubble (okay, big difference there)…

They'd taken a few clumsy steps while lip-locked, and the kiss ended abruptly as the back of Rodney's head hit the wall.

"Sorry," Sheppard said, stepping back. He seemed kind of shell-shocked, and Rodney knew he probably looked the same way. Of course, part of that was likely the mild head trauma. Unbidden came an image of himself twenty years in the future, rubbing the back of his head and saying to someone, "Sorry. Old gay sex injury."

_God! Sex! Gay! God!_

"That was… that was good, wasn't it?" Sheppard was asking. "I mean, before you hit your head."

"What was good?" Rodney quipped, intending a joke about the blow causing amnesia, but the freaked look on Sheppard's face prompted instant withdrawal from that plan. "Kidding! Kidding! Sorry. It was… well, it was fine. I think. Wasn't it?"

"Of course it was."

"Right. Well, that's settled, then." They looked at each other for a few moments, until Rodney couldn't stand the silence. "So… what do we do now?"

Both men turned their eyes toward the bed as though it had cleared its throat. (Which, in Atlantis, wasn't entirely implausible, really.) Their eyes returned to each other, and Rodney told himself that wasn't raw terror he saw in Sheppard's, because _one_ of them needed to have enough nerve to see this through, and did anyone seriously think it would be _him?_

Sheppard gestured with his eyes, indicating the bed and a question. Rodney nodded slightly, and they both headed back to where this had begun. Rodney's knees felt watery and his breath was thready, his heart pounding like a bass drum as played by an exuberant teenager. By the time they were again sitting on the bed, he knew hyperventilation was just around the corner. God, he'd had so much more self-possession when he'd first gotten on the bed, driving the encounter and full of purpose. Now he was worried about staying conscious. What the hell had happened?

_Well, then I'd still had my jacket on._

Oh yeah, good point. That explained it. He rolled his eyes.

"What?" Sheppard was beside him, stopping in mid-reach with doubt in his eyes.

"Shut up," Rodney said softly.

"Okay." Sheppard continued to reach until his hand was on Rodney's shoulder, but it was Rodney who took control of this kiss, leaning into him and twisting to push him onto his back. This was all kind of new territory, and it had been a pretty long time for him in any case, but Rodney had decided that the key was to approach this just as though he were with a woman, but without actually thinking of women. It sounded more difficult than it was, really. Maybe because he hadn't really been _seriously_ interested in a woman since Samantha Car…

Damn it.

"What?" Sheppard was saying against his suddenly immobile lips. "What'd I do? What happened?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine. Go back to what you were doing."

Putting both hands on Rodney's chest, Sheppard pushed him off and sat up. "Okay, what's going on, Rodney? Are you just screwing with me here or what?"

"Oh, God! Thanks for reminding me!" Rodney bolted from the bed to the desk and rifled through his jacket pockets. "Aha, there it is." He held aloft a long tube of what could have been mistaken for toothpaste, from a distance.

"What's that?"

Rodney stared at him. "What do you mean, what's that? You honestly don't _know?_ "

Sheppard's eyes widened yet again, in sudden realization… and maybe fear? Rodney felt a little panicked at the sight. "No, no, it's okay, really, it's… I mean, it's not like we _have_ to. I don't think. Do we? I mean, of course we don't. There are plenty of other things we can… I've read up on it pretty thoroughly, and there are lots of—"

"Wait," Sheppard said, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. A nervous-looking, flushed, mildly fearful traffic cop. On a bed. "You've 'read up on it?'"

"Well, yeah, a little. Some. Maybe quite a bit." Suddenly defensive, Rodney blurted, "I wanted to know what to expect, all right? Plus, I thought it would help if I, you know, kinda knew my way around. Had a feel for the lay of the land, so to speak. I didn't want you to be so busy explaining things to me that you couldn't enjoy yourself. Thought it would make it easier. Turns out I was wrong, but that had to happen sooner or later, didn't it? Would you please _say_ something?"

"I'm trying... I just…" Sheppard sighed. "I'm sorry, I just didn't realize this was, you know. Your first time. With a guy, I mean."

"Well, duh! I'd have thought that first kiss would have cleared _that_ up for you."

"Well, that could have just been… Well, it could have been me. I wasn't sure."

"You? Why would it have been you?" Oh. "Wait. It's your first time too? Really?"

The other man bristled. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Oh, don't be so sensitive. I just thought, well, I figured you must be more experienced than me. Because let's face it, it's hard to be _less_ experienced than me, unless you're a fetus or something." He frowned at the analogy; after all, nothing puts one in the mood for sex like a fetus reference.

"Rodney, I'm career U.S. military!"

"Yes? So?"

"So why would you assume I'd be 'experienced' in having sex with men?" He made the little air quotes as he said it, something that always annoyed Rodney.

Rodney wiped his face with a hand in a show of laboriously maintained patience. "In deference to the occasion, I'll bypass the obvious jokes that cry out to be made in response to that question and answer you in all seriousness."

"You're too kind."

"I know." Rodney took a minute to line up his thoughts, then leaned back against the desk. "Look. I guess it's just that you always seemed so at ease around me, you know what I mean? Confident, sure of yourself. So when the idea of a, of a, you know, a date, was first delicately broached—"

"You interrupted an argument about Batman with, 'So when are we going to finally acknowledge this mutual attraction thing, Colonel?' That's about as close to delicate as Canadian football is to being a sport."

"So this is how you want it? Stupid insults and arguments about semantics?"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Go on."

"Anyways, when the idea came out in the open and you seemed… receptive… well, I just had it in my head that this was not your first walk down this particular trail."

Sheppard smirked self-consciously. "Well, believe me, it is. I'm just trying to look for the signs. 'Trail begins here'. 'Left curve ahead.'"

"'Service road only. Do not enter.'" Rodney maintained a straight face until Sheppard's uncertain expression broke him. Their too-loud laughter seemed to shatter the tension barrier, and Rodney felt knots untying in his shoulders that he hadn't even noticed until they began to ease.

"So, now that we're both on the same page about… being on the same page…" In lieu of finishing the sentence, Sheppard gave one of his remarkably meaningless yet perfectly understandable facial contortions.

Rodney raised his eyebrows. He'd always wanted to be able to raise just one, like Spock, but countless hours of practice before mirrors had proven fruitless. "You, uh, you still want to?"

"Only if you do. Do you?"

"You're sure?"

"Would I say it if I wasn't?"

Rodney wasn't entirely sure what _either_ of them had just said, to be honest. "Well. Okay."

He was still leaning against the desk. Sheppard was still sitting on the bed. Sheppard looked at him. Rodney returned the favor. Eventually, something occurred to him. "You want me to come over there?" 

"Well, it's not like I'm Mr. Fantastic."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short." Sheppard snorted, and Rodney started toward the bed. Again.

He didn't really know for certain what 'sauntering' was, but he'd always understood it to be sexy, so he tried to put some saunter into his walk.

"Did you pull a muscle or something?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney ignored him. If the man couldn't appreciate a perfectly serviceable saunter, he deserved to have his questions go unanswered. He sat on the bed beside Sheppard and put his hands on his knees.

"Okay, here's the thing. All attempts to start with kissing have led to embarrassment and pain. I propose we take a different tack."

Sheppard grinned. "Blaze our own trail?"

Rodney thought that sounded vaguely painful, but returned the grin in the interest of solidarity.

"So," Sheppard said, "where should we start?"

Rodney thought about it. "Manual stimulation?" At Sheppard's shuttered look of unease, he hastily added, "You know – caresses. Rubbing each other's shoulders and necks and whatnot."

"Oh. Yeah. Okay. That sounds good."

"Great."

There was a pause as each seemed to wait for the other to make the first move. When neither did, they both did, Rodney reaching to stroke Sheppard's arm only to have Sheppard move that arm to reach for Rodney's shoulder.

"Oops."

"Sorry."

"'Sokay."

Another, shorter pause. This time Sheppard reached out with his left hand as Rodney lifted his right, and their knuckles collided midway.

"Ouch!"

"Shit."

"Sorry."

"Damn."

"I said sorry!"

Now they eyed each other warily, hands twitching at their sides like a couple of gunfighters, if gunfighters had conducted their showdowns unarmed while sitting next to one another on beds. When Rodney was sure Sheppard was waiting for him to start, he lifted his left hand, only to see Sheppard lifting his right. Before Rodney could react, Sheppard slapped his hand away.

"Ow! God!"

"Just sit there a minute," growled his partner. Rodney longed to point out that neither physical abuse nor being told to "just sit there" was doing much to inject any romance into this encounter, but he held his tongue because a) he figured Sheppard would just slap him again if he didn't, and b) he was really hoping to get through this little tête-à-tête without either of them needing a trip to the infirmary.

Sheppard's hand was on Rodney's shoulder companionably. He gave it an experimental pat or two, then rubbed it softly but in a fairly businesslike manner. Rodney felt like a Little Leaguer being consoled by his coach after allowing the other team to score the winning run.

The hand finished rubbing little circles on his shoulder and slid up to cup Rodney's neck, stroking the side of it with evident uncertainty, his fingers indecisively brushing the back of Rodney's neck while his thumb lingered disturbingly near the windpipe. Sheppard's face telegraphed that he had no idea what to do next. He was not only winging it, but flying on only one wing. When he ran out of steam stroking Rodney's neck, he looked briefly flummoxed, finally raising the other hand to work on the other side. Now Rodney had the uncomfortable feeling, looking into Sheppard's face as the man had both of his hands at the base of his neck, that if the colonel couldn't come up with a suitable next move, he might fall back on strangulation.

"No, you know what?" Rodney waved his arms, dislodging Sheppard. "Time's up. Move over. I'm driving."

"What?"

"Quiet, I'm working here. Turn around." When Sheppard didn't comply fast enough, Rodney helped him by grabbing his shoulders and physically encouraging him to turn his back. "Ah, there we go. Now, let's see, um. Why don't I… right. Here, how 'bout this?"

He started with his hands on Sheppard's shoulders, lightly running them inward to the base of the neck and then outward again, applying firmer pressure as he went. "God, it's like massaging a tree branch. Is it even possible to get tenser than you are? I'm thinking the next step has gotta be petrifaction. You know, it's okay to relax when you're, well, it's just okay, you know?"

Sheppard said only, "I'm good."

Leaning over one of Sheppard's shoulders, Rodney grinned. "Well, I guess I'll find that out firsthand soon enough, huh?"

He wasn't sure what made him cringe harder – the ridiculously forced-sultriness of his voice, or the sensation of Sheppard's muscles tensing even further under his hands.

Sheppard started to turn around. "Look, Rodney…"

"No, no, no, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have tried to get all… cool and sexy there. Just gotta be myself, right? That's the key, isn't it? Being myself. You be you and I'll be me and—"

"And never the twain shall meet," Sheppard muttered.

Rodney glared at him and finished the sentence as though he hadn't heard. "And the rest will take care of itself." God, what a lame finish. What the hell did it even mean? And was Sheppard actually getting tenser _still?_ Goddamn! It was already like trying to give a back rub to The Thing here.

As far as Rodney could tell, Sheppard's shoulders were the only things in this room that were getting harder. Something had to be done to salvage the mood, or all this humiliation would have been for nothing. Thinking quickly, Rodney redoubled his massaging efforts and took a deep breath.

"Imagine yourself… flying," he said, shooting for a contemplative tone. "It's a clear, cloudless, windless day. There's nothing around but an endless panorama of deep blue sky." Aha! It was working; Sheppard's muscles had unknotted infinitesimally under Rodney's sensitive fingers. Good thing he'd gone through that Ascension scare; no way would Rodney have known what to say to relax Sheppard if not for those wacky, abortive meditation sessions.

"You're gliding along, surrounded by clarity, pushing further and further into the blue expanse…" He screwed up his features, fumbling mentally. "Further and further in, feeling like you could, um, reach out and touch it… only you can't, of course, because it's just a color, and the color's not even really there, because it's just an optical illusion caused by the… right, not relevant, forget about that. Wide blue skies, wide… blue… skies."

Was it helping? Rodney thought so. At least Sheppard was relaxing a little more. Of course, the real problem with this plan was that if Rodney continued to simply regurgitate what Sheppard had fed him during their meditation sessions, the evening would probably end with Sheppard falling peacefully asleep. That, or accidentally Ascending. Neither result could be considered a successful end to their date.

So, time to get creative. "You're flying along… no worries, no cares… and gradually, you become aware that you're… not flying alone." Right, good! Inserting himself into the relaxation scenario. That had potential. "Someone else is out for a cruise through the open air, and they're, they're… he's… right behind you."

"What, he's drafting?"

"What? Is he, no, of _course_ he's not dr…" He grunted and flicked the back of Sheppard's head in annoyance. "Look, this is a beautiful moment. Don't be stupidly technical. Now, back to the flying."

He'd expanded his range of massaging now, no longer kneading Sheppard's shoulders, but sliding his hands down toward the shoulder blades, making lazy circuits around them, then diagonally to the outer reaches of each shoulder, slowly pulling his hands down the upper arms.

"You can feel him sharing the air… matching your movements… slowly gaining on you until, until, until suddenly, you know, you just _know_ that he's directly behind you. Closer this time, I mean, like he's… like he's just… about… to touch you…" He'd gradually leaned forward as he said this, until his chest was lightly pressing Sheppard's back. "And then, then you can feel his heartbeat, somehow, and, and his breath in your ear, and—"

Rodney's palms had been brushing the soft cotton blend of the sleeves of Sheppard's black tee, but now the sleeves had run out and his hands were sliding over bare arms. Like a rocket, Sheppard made a sudden ascent to a standing position, his shoulder clipping Rodney's chin and causing him to bite his tongue.

"Ow! God! What! Jeez!" Rodney doubled over, ineffectually gripping his jaw with both hands and tasting pain.

"Shit! Sorry. I'm sorry! I just…" Sheppard was pacing back and forth, three steps, turn, two steps, turn, three more, turn… "Rodney, I don't… I'm not sure… it's… It's me, okay? It's not you, it's—"

"No! Don't say it! Good God, if we go _there,_ we will _never_ find our way back."

"Back from where?"

"From that place where you say things like that to each other! It starts with 'it's not you, it's me,' and pretty soon you're saying the dumber stuff: 'Does this make me look fat?' Before you know it, you're, you're, you're trapped in cliché Hell spouting truly asinine circular inanities like, 'Well, if you don't _know,_ I'm certainly not going to _tell_ you.' I can't go there, Colonel, I can't. My mind won't survive it."

Eyes narrowing, Sheppard asked, "How hard did I hit you just now?"

"Oh, never mind that. What the hell happened, anyways? You were into it! I know you were. You were, right? I mean, I thought you were. Were you?"

"I don't know. Were _you?_"

"Sure. Of course. How should I know?"

"How should _I?_"

"Because I never would have suggested any of this if I hadn't thought you'd be into it!"

"Neither would I! I mean, I wouldn't have suggested this. If you hadn't, I definitely wouldn't have."

Throwing his hands into the air, Rodney huffed. "You know, it's one thing to be led on by a woman. It's a whole 'nother thing when it's your best friend."

"I never led you on!"

"Liar! You so did."

"I did not. I—" Sheppard paused, almost smiling. "I'm your best friend?"

"What, are we twelve now?"

"You were the one who said it."

Rodney sighed impatiently. "Yes, okay? Yes. I would have to say that of everyone in the city, you are my best friend."

"In the city?"

"Okay, okay, the galaxy. _Both_ galaxies. There, does that make you feel all warm and fuzzy?"

Sheppard just grinned, which made Rodney scowl. He was confused about what he was feeling just now, and being forced into that admission had been an unwelcome distraction.

His bemused thoughts were interrupted by Sheppard saying, "Look, all this… I really was trying to… I didn't mean to mess it up."

Rodney snorted, but his heart wasn't in it. "I'm pretty sure that messing it up took two of us, Colonel."

They fell silent for a moment, each looking elsewhere, Sheppard rubbing the back of his neck and kicking at the floor, Rodney's hands in constant nervous motion – rubbing his face, crossing his arms, resting on his hips, picking at his shirt.

When they spoke, it was both at the same time.

"Okay, I should go."

"Rodney, I'm sorry."

"A long night in the lab ought to help dilute the memory of tonight's humiliation."

"No, I… wait. Hang on. Please, don't go just yet."

"Or I could just go to my quarters and sleep."

"I know this whole thing was… embarrassing, but…"

"Probably have that dream where I'm getting the Nobel and suddenly realize I'm naked."

"I need to ask… I have to know… _Shut up a minute!_"

Rodney folded his arms, stuck out his chin, and shut up.

Now that he had the floor uncontested, Sheppard seemed less certain about what he wanted to say. Rodney savored his discomfort without pity. People shouldn't take center stage unless they know all their lines.

"What you said just now? About me… leading you on. What was it, exactly, that made you think that?"

Rodney laughed. "Are you kidding?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Waving his arms in frustration, Rodney said, "What do you want me to do, enumerate every instance of suggestive body language and conversation over the past three years?"

"Suggestive body language and conv… Wait a minute. Are you saying you think I've been _flirting_ with you?"

"Well, duh! What would you call it?"

"I'd call it you don't know what flirting _is,_ that's what I'd call it!"

"Oh-ho," Rodney laughed snidely, "I've been around the block a time or two, Colonel. I know flirting when I see it."

"Apparently, you even know it when you _don't_ see it!"

Rodney held up a hand in an effort to halt Sheppard's pathetic denials. "You come to my lab at various times of day for no official reason. You seek me out in the mess hall. You ask me to watch movies with you. You strike up conversations that have nothing to do with our work. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Sheppard looked as though Rodney had just told him that ZPM's were darned good eatin'. "You're supposed to think I enjoy your company. You're supposed to think I _like_ you, dumbass!"

"Oh, right. Like that's the first thing that would occur to me!"

"Rodney." He couldn't decipher Sheppard's expression. Not exactly sadness, almost pity except not really. "Rodney… I swear, I wasn't looking for anything from you other than, you know. Friendship. I just… liked hanging out with you."

"Oh. Really? How come? I mean… that's nice." He was awkwardly silent until he frowned as another thought struck him. "Well, if that's the case, then what was tonight all about? You were only looking for friendship, but couldn't say no to a little nookie? Except you _did_ say no to it, didn't you? So why did you agree to, to, this… this date if you never had any intention of going through—"

"I did intend to go through with it."

Okay, so, that was the second most confusing thing to have happened tonight, and that was really saying something. Rodney successfully fought the urge to growl, _Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Sheppard?_ Instead, he said, "Why on earth would you go along with it when you knew you weren't attracted to me? Jesus, that's like, that's like a priest getting circumcised because he's buddies with a Rabbi."

"Huh? How is that anything like—"

"I concede the simile sucks. Cut me some slack, I'm traumatized and totally baffled. Just answer the question, okay? Why did you—"

"Because I _didn't_ know."

"Huh? Didn't know what?"

Sheppard's eyes were everywhere but on Rodney's face. He sat down upon the bed and as he spoke stared at the floor, his pillow, the desk chair, a place on the wall slightly to Rodney's left. "I didn't know if I wasn't, maybe… sort of… attracted to you."

"Okay, how could you not know something like that?"

"Because I just didn't! I've had my share of friends, McKay, but… oh, just forget it."

"Yeah, that's gonna happen. Come on, you can't quit now. My brain's gonna explode, and I'll take you down with me, so spill. Why did you 'sort of think you might be attracted to me, maybe?'"

Sheppard sighed, obviously struggling to find the words. "Like I said, I've had other friends, but with you… it was just, I don't know… easier. You know?"

Rodney opened his mouth, prepared to mock the sentiment. Damned if his mouth just wouldn't cooperate. Definitely one for the books. "Okay, fine, I get that. But how's it logical to assume that that must mean you were hot for me?"

He regretted the words almost before he finished articulating them, not because Sheppard blushed from his roots to his collarbone (that was actually fun to watch), but because he saw that curtain the man kept behind his eyes starting to roll down. "Sorry, poor choice of words. Forget I said that, okay? Just… continue."

Another sigh, and this time it cost Sheppard some serious effort to keep going. "I honestly never thought a thing about it, until you brought up that 'mutual attraction' business. At first, I just thought you were crazy, but it kept preying on my mind, you know? I started to think about all the other friendships I've had, and… well, none of them ever felt this… this…"

"I know," Rodney blurted. The discomfort he was reading in Sheppard's face and body language was overwhelming; he felt compelled to help him out. "I know what you mean. I probably haven't had quite as many friends as you've had – well, I'd have to say not _nearly_ as many, I'm sure. In fact, I've hardly had any, unless you count… well, never mind all that. The point is, this is the first friendship I've ever had that felt this…" He hunted for the word. "Comfortable?"

"Exactly!" Relief was practically spurting from Sheppard's pores. "So then, I started to think, well, what if I don't know enough to know what I'm really feeling here? I mean, obviously, you knew how _you_ felt, and you apparently thought you were picking up some kind of signals from me that I didn't realize I was… what's so damned funny?"

"Good God!" Rodney chortled. "You really don't get it? I didn't 'know how I felt' any more than you did! I mean, first we got that whole saving each other's lives thing going, and then we were hanging out when we didn't have to, and eventually, I started to realize how often you tend to get in my space, and—"

"Whoa. I 'get in your space?' What's that, some kind of New Age slang?"

"No, you moron, it means you crowd me a lot. As in physical proximity? Standing over my shoulder while I'm in the lab, bumping me, slapping my head. You're in my space a _lot._"

"So that makes me gay?"

"No, it makes you a space violator."

"You do realize how wrong that sounds, right?"

"The point is," Rodney said loudly, "I started to wonder if all of that added up to something more than friendship on your side. And when I tried to analyze how _I_ felt about our, you know, relationship, I began to entertain the idea that maybe there was something else that, that needed exploring. So, I brought it up to you, and you didn't punch me out, so I took that to mean that my interpretation was correct."

"That's a hell of a system you got there. If you imply someone's gay and they don't kick your ass, then by default they must be gay?"

"May I remind you that you later arranged this date?"

"Okay," Sheppard said, standing up and waving a hand in a manner that said he was ready to move to the less uncomfortable parts of this topic, if any could actually be found, "we both made assumptions, we were both wrong, we're both embarrassed. Where do we go from here?"

"Sorry?"

Leaning with his butt against the wall, Sheppard looked him in the eye. "Rodney, we have to work together. After… what almost happened here tonight, do you think… _can_ we still work together?"

"Okay, first of all, that's the most imbecilic thing you've ever said. Of course we can. Why couldn't we? At least, I can. If you can't, then we have a problem, but frankly, I don't know why you'd feel that way."

"I don't. But after what we almost did—"

"The key word being 'almost.' The thing is, Colonel, even though we totally misread each other, and ourselves, we both came here prepared to do something that would have changed our relationship drastically, and neither one of us stopped to ask if we thought we could still work together afterward." Suddenly feeling drained, Rodney moved back to the now-vacated bed and sat down.

"Good point," Sheppard conceded graciously. He grinned, looking both wicked and sheepish, which was a neat trick. "What do you think that says about us?"

Rodney nearly blurted that it probably said something about trust or some such nonsense, but he was _really_ ready for Touchy-Feely Time to be over now – oh yeah, literally and figuratively – so he pushed that insight aside. "I think it says you're a selfish bastard who thinks with his small head, and that I'm sufficiently professional to not let personal issues affect my work."

"Right." Sheppard smirked, but Rodney saw. He got it.

That was really very cool.

The colonel was still holding up the wall, but now looked infinitely more relaxed – looked a lot like Rodney felt, in fact. He laughed, shaking his head, and Sheppard demanded, "What?"

"We've gotta be the only guys in history to ever have gotten relief from not getting laid."

Sheppard snorted, and Rodney hung his head and laughed, harder than the joke was worth, but damn it, it just felt _good._

He stopped laughing when something landed draped over his head. He pulled the jacket off and glared at Sheppard.

"C'mon, I'm thirsty. Let's go see what there is in the mess."

"Ooh, good idea." Rodney shrugged the jacket on and stood up, following Sheppard out the door. "You know, that cheesecakey stuff they served at dinner was really lousy. Maybe they have some left."

"Well, if there's any around, I'm sure your Foodie senses will tingle."

"Finally, a reasonable explanation for you following me around."

"You're on to me. Of course, it's kind of a trade-off, since being seen with you can be sort of embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? What are you…" Rodney stopped, both speaking and walking. He'd just realized something was wrong.

Sheppard's eyes had a downright evil glint to them sometimes. "My door's unlocked," he said, "if you wanna go get your boots."

Rodney squinted nastily, turned to go back, then stopped. Glancing around the deserted hall, he leaned in close to Sheppard. "A true gentleman would have brought them for me." Then he headed back to the room, smiling slightly as he listened to the colonel's quiet laughter.


End file.
